


The Workings of an Impromptu Feelings Jam

by Indubitably



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indubitably/pseuds/Indubitably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was going to be a quick romp underneath the sheets ended in a feelings jam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Workings of an Impromptu Feelings Jam

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for nsfw-davejohn who wanted fem!Davejohn, but um... I got derailed from my original plans.

"Do you like that?" You ask and her words come out as weak moans when you push more of your weight into her, hips sliding against each other’s thigh as you both try to fit your bodies together. But that's hard to do when you're both teenagers with too many sharp angles, too many soft curves, and not enough experience between you both.

But you must be doing something right by her book because Joan keens as you rub yourself up against her and fucking damn you’re making a mess out of your underwear, but so is she. You can feel the damp spot on her panties and fucking hell that’s kind of hot and you let out a low moan.

"Yes, yes, yes, Dove, yes, please don't stop," she whispers to you as her head tips back to let you press open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

Your lipstick leaves black smears on her skin that you know she doesn't like because it's difficult to get off and _what if my mom sees it? What then Dove?_ But you don't care at the moment, not when Joan is so close to you and looking at you with half-lidded eyes and a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

She’s beautiful and you wonder if she knows how much you love her.

“Hey Dove,” she says as her hands leave their place wrapped around your shoulders to travel to the hem of your shirt. She’s smiling at you, but there’s something different this time in her expression and thigh thrusting doesn’t seem appropriate at the moment so both hips slow to a stop. The feeling of approaching orgasm ebbs, but something else is coming, but you’re not sure what.

“Hey Joan,” you parrot back and her grin gets just a tiny bit wider as her fingertips slip under your shirt. Your back stiffens up and you let out a barely audible hiss as her fingernails skim along your side, raising goose bumps in their wake. You glower at her and –oh yeah— there’s no mistaking what’s on her mind.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, look, I see what you’re doing with those hands of yours,” you say as Joan continues to smile innocently up at you, her thumb rubbing circles into your skin. “You’re thinking about tickling me, but you wanna come up with something cool to announce it first. Something incredibly dorky and just so _you_ that makes me want to face palm, but it’s kind of fucking cute all at the same time.

"Like you’re gonna say you’re the fucking Tickle Monster because I saw you eyeing that tickle-me-until-I-fall-to-the-ground-gasping-for-air red furry doll shit before, okay? Don’t pretend you weren’t brainstorming something for that Prankster’s Gambit of yours. I’m onto you, don’t you fucking dare.” You pause to catch your breath. “Capiché?”

“Wow Dove, I totally caught everything that you just spewed at me,” Joan retorts, rolling her eyes. “And oh man, I wasn’t even thinking about the Tickle Me _Elmo_ until you brought it up! I don’t think about Sesame Street when we’re about to do it unlike you,” she teases, chuckles soft and subdued under her breath.

You make a face at her and she lets out a bark of laughter, reaches up to press her lips to your temple. It’s a bit uncomfortable because she can’t quite reach up there without you hunching awkwardly over her, but the feeling of her fingers skimming your spine and tracing imaginary patterns into skin outweighs the cons.

“But you know… that does give me an idea...”

“Egbert you fucking shit, don’t you fucking da—“

“Tickle attack!” She squeals as her fingers attack your sides and you make the most outrageous face that is only paled by the noise that comes out of your mouth. The two of you struggle on the bed for minutes; you doing everything you can to get her to stop that is just short of punching her in the face. It ends when you make another noise that sounds like a drunken cat gurgling on water and it’s enough to stop Joan from continuing.

Your face is bright red with mortification when you jump off the bed.

She stares at you, mouth slowly stretching into a grin and she gasps out an incredulous, “Was that you?” Your shoulders hunch up and you don’t need to say anything for her to know the answer. And now she is laughing at you, legs kicking in the air in uncontrolled glee, and normally you would think it was cute, but today is just not the day.

“Oh man that was the most ridiculous noise I have ever heard!”

“You’re a fucking dick!” You snap, hands balling into fists at your side. “You know I fucking hate being tickled, you unglorious douchemuffin of a brain!” You regret the moment those words left your mouth because they only make her laugh harder. Though you don’t really blame her this time. It was a pretty shitty insult and you could have done better, definitely.

“You know what? Just suck my dick!”

And with that, you turn on your heels and march out of the room. You’ll take refuge in the bathroom for now. Nothing in there is going to care if you sit by the door and sulk to yourself about how your girlfriend is a dick sometimes.

The last thing you hear before you slam the door shut is Joan shouting out, “Did you finally buy a strap-on?”

\----

You haven’t been sulking for very long (only about a minute and twelve seconds) before you hear the footsteps of Joan approaching the door. She knocks softly and you snort to yourself.

“Are you in there?”

“No, I’m so far out in space that time and distance doesn’t follow the laws of physics anymore,” You reply, tone more bitter than you thought it would be. “What you’re hearing is my response, just about two million days too early.” There’s a pause as you consider what you just said. You sigh. “Well, from my perspective at least.”

“Wait, is this a time thing or a space thing?”

“Time stuff,” you say, though you’re not entirely sure if this is a timey whimey issue or a spacy wacey one. “Or space? I don’t know.”

“Maybe it’s both?”

“Probably.”

And the conversation dies off there with you still sitting next to the door with your chin digging into your arms and Joan standing at the other side, probably scratching her chin as she tries to figure out what to do. The silence makes you anxious, but you’re not willing to break it. You don’t have to wait long before Joan does it.

“Do you plan on coming out soon?”

“No.”

“Oh man, why not? Did I make you pee a little again? If I did, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to tickle you that hard.”

You groan and bury your face into your arms. Of all the things that you need, that memory is not one of them. “God Egbert, can you please never mention that ever again? Just banish from your memory the fact that Dove Strider peed herself a little bit because her best friend tickled her too hard. It’s mortifying.”

Joan laughs and you unfurl from your ball of sulk and mopey emotions just a little bit at the noise. It’s a comforting noise no matter the situation and you sigh. “Look Eggs, can you leave alone for a few more minutes so I can sit here like the lameass homo butt I am and let me ponder over why I had to fall for the one girl who doesn’t realize that tickling her girlfriend until she almost pees is not a thing she should do.”

“You are a lameass homo butt!” Joan states, but before you can even make an indignant noise, she’s going on. “I mean, why didn’t you just tell me that it bothered you that much? I’m not a mind reader! I’m not Jude you know.”

“And I’m not Ross either,” you mumble back to her even though you’re sure she can’t hear it. “Look, I keep telling you not to—“

“Oh man, when did I even think you were Ross?” Joan asks and for once you don’t really have a reply. It’s never been a thing that Joan did; it’s always been a thing that you did, comparing yourself to other people that is. You’re not Ross, you’re never going to be as smart as he is. You’re not Jude, you’re never going to be as encouraging as he is. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not.

“God Dove, it’s like you just can’t let yourself be happy!” She snaps and you wince a bit at the tone of her voice, wish you could have your shades with you, wish you didn’t feel the guilt churning in your stomach.

“Look Dove, you’re not Ross, you’re not Jude, and you’re not your sister. You’re Dove Strider and you like making shitty raps and sharing them with your best friends, you can whip up some pretty ‘ill sick beats,’ you like taking really hipster photos a lot, and you’re really afraid of failing, and guess what? You’re my best friend and girlfriend and I don’t like it when you beat yourself up for what makes you you.”

“It’s not just that though.”

There’s a pause and you can hear the doorknob shaking as she tries to force it open. You have no doubt that she can rip the door out with her bare hands if she wanted to (mangrit runs in the family), but it’s not her house and that’s probably what’s stopping her.

“Okay Dove? Can you open the door? It’s locked and I don’t want to rip it off its hinges.”

“If we’re having a feelings jam, I can’t look you in the face,” you say. “Just the way it’s gotta be. Like how aliens need blood the color of the fucking rainbow and Jude gotta have a devil beast for a pet. Sorry.”

She groans in frustration but stops trying to jiggle the door open. “You’re a horse’s ass.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“That’s cause I have better nicknames for you now.”

“Hummingbird sucks f-y-i.”

“I think you need to shut up now.”

You snort and Joan is chuckling from the other side of the door. “Oh, nice comeback. That one really burned,” you joke as you stretch out your legs, shift a little to get more comfortable cause this feeling jam is not over yet. “But seriously? What the fuck makes you think that it’s okay to shove ice cubes into my fucking knickers when I’m about to romance you?

"See, there’s this spectrum called the Spectrum of Lovitude, okay? Right up there at the top is getting hitched, growing old together, and staying faithfully in love. At the very bottom we have killing your lover during sex and eating their head. Right above that is shoving ice cubes into your lover’s fucking underwear.

"Are you getting this? Seriously, you should be tripping over yourself for a pencil cause you gotta be taking notes on this shit.”

“Yes because wow Dove, I totally believe in the Spectrum of Lovitude and how it’s totally not a bunch of bullshit,” Joan says in response. “Wow, I feel so blessed for this knowledge. Thank you oh wise gatekeeper.”

“Damn straight. I am the gatekeeper to the ocean of knowledge and you better know the differences between your, you’re, loose, lose, their, they’re, and there before you can enter.”

“More like the gatekeeper to hell. The portals are your eyes.”

“Geez Egbert, you sure do know how to make a girl feel swell.”

“I am the most charming Dove, it’s is I,” she whispers and the words come out raspy and just all together very Gollum-like (“My precious…”), and you both burst into laughter because it was the farthest thing from charming. Might as well throw that shit into the lava and watch it drown because there’s no way it can redeem itself. Sorry bub, maybe in the afterlife.

“But seriously Joan,” you pause to lick your lips, wetting them and buying time. “When I say ‘no,’ I’d like it if you took me seriously. We can bring out the candle wax, collars, and ropes later on in the relationship, okay? But baby steps first.”

“But I do take you seriously! I haven’t stepped over any of your boundaries!”

“The tickling…”

“I was only kidding around though.”

You sigh, shift around on the tiled floor, and let your head bonk against the door. “I know that. You’ll never do anything to put me in serious danger, I got that,” you say, carding a hand through your hair in frustration. “It’s just that… man, I gotta stop with that ‘how high do you want me to jump’ shit when you tell me to jump.

"Just listen to me before the situation gets out of fucking control, okay?”

She doesn’t respond and you’re left sitting in the bathroom wondering if she left and you didn’t notice. Then you hear it, a breathy little “oh” before the doorknob is jiggling again.

“God I am a dick. I’m the biggest of dicks, it is me. Boys have nothing on me; people on the moon can see how much of a dick I am from where they are,” she says, words halted by laughs that don’t really fit in. She gives up on the doorknob, raps on the door instead. “Dove, can you let me in? I’m sorry for being a really douchey girlfriend. I will try to do better from now on.”

You get up from the ground, stretching briefly to appease your cramped muscles, and sneak a quick peek at yourself in the mirror. You… in all honesty look a bit like a blind troll boy dressed you. Your hair is mussed up, your shirt is wrinkly, your lipstick is smeared, and you forgot your pants when you walked out. Joan won’t care though so you don’t bother fixing up how you look.

The moment you open the door, you’re in Joan’s arms and you squirm around a little bit because it’s just so awkward being squished together like this. Joan didn’t even bother throwing her bra on, probably came right after you once she stopped laughing. She’s only in her panties and –wow— your hormones really don’t need this at the moment. Being tugged left and right they are.

“Okay, I got it, you love me, please stop. Constricting my breathing. I’m a Hero of Time, not one of Breath,” you mumble, twisting and squirming in her grip until she lets you go with a laugh.

“But oh man,” she starts as she hands over your shades.

You take them gladly and put them on. Man do you feel more comfortable in your own skin now.

“I promise to be less of dumb butt to you okay?”

“And I promise to be less of a dumb homo butt to myself too.”

You two kiss on it.


End file.
